


Not the One in Your Jewelry Box

by worldturtling



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ballet, M/M, POV Castiel, POV Third Person, Unrequited Love, dancer!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:50:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worldturtling/pseuds/worldturtling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel becomes infatuated with a dancer he knows nothing about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the One in Your Jewelry Box

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the lovely ricketyhands. Fair warning: I know very little about ballet.

Castiel asks around the company, and his fine shoes and good coat never go unnoticed.

He never went to a performance university, nor a specialty school.

His mother was a famous ballerina in her day, played the lead in Giselle a few years in a row.

(Bought the kid his first shoes at the age of 6, he heard whispered)

(Heard his father didn’t like that, some grunted)

(His legs are a little queer, don’t you think? Who’re you to call anyone queer, Tobias?) Castiel walks away from this one.

Castiel never really cared for the arts. He was a logic based businessman who didn’t like wasting time, and certainly didn’t like to spend his free hours going out to the crowded streets of the city.

Until the Christmas party, where someone had gifted him two tickets to The Nutcracker.

And then Anna had dragged him into going along and seeing some trite production of The Nutcracker.

 Castiel knew next to nothing about dancing, and ballet was a completely foreign concept to him.

And then the  _prince_  came on stage. Castiel didn’t understand that moment entirely himself. He viewed the grace and the way the soft thick man pulled his body inwards as if it were the only thing happening on stage. The man ran and spun and Castiel couldn’t even see the chorus of other dancers.

And on one spin, he could have sworn they locked eyes, bright green from Castiel’s front row. Castiel sat gripping the arms of his seat for the entire performance.

He spent time in a line waiting to see the actors afterwards, but he didn’t appear. Soon Anna signaled she needed to get home, and Castiel slumped and came along with her.

The Internet was a marvelous thing. He bought the same front row seat tickets the next day. This time he managed to pay attention to the opponents of the nutcracker prince, how their bodies fell on his, when the Clara character fell onto him. He was stiff during the performance, and Castiel realized that was part of the act as a nutcracker, for his ending performance he turned into some fluid being of grace and elegance. He didn’t lock eyes with the dancer again, but he convinced himself he was being drawn into the art.

Castiel decided he wanted to see him in other performances.

And that was how he became involved in the season. He bought a package with preferred seats and membership and everything. He did his research on plays beforehand; he had an early light dinner, and attended the evening performances.

One evening, a gentleman struck up a conversation with him during the interlude.

“That Bela, beautiful, sent her flowers. Haven’t been able to stop coming since.” He had a light accent, was in an all black suit and was stocky and shorter in comparison to Cas. Castiel nodded. He didn’t know which dancer that was.

“How do you send them flowers?”

“Meg coordinates that at the back door, pre-finale of course.”

Castiel nods.

First, he decides to order the flowers via his personal assistant. Rachel dislikes it but she plays the part and buys a dozen roses and hands it to meg at the front door with a little nametag.

The third time, she gives him a speech on propriety and extortion, so Castiel has the flower delivery company do it instead, making the arrangements bigger.

“You know, this company is great. Put a little bit of my share in yearly. The owners are great people, but I like having the security of knowing what will happen, you know?”

“You know the owners?”

“Oh yeah, charming if you’re into that ghastly cut your balls off if you say one word out of line charm.” Castiel looks down at his drink, considers this. He licks his lips.

“I, how would I..”

“I can set up a meeting for you, mate. They’re always looking for new investors after all.” Castiel gulps, nods.

“Yes, please do so.”

“Cheers.” Crowley tips his whiskey to him before downing it.

Castiel takes his lunch early the next day, and meets at the restaurant of the hotel Crowley sent him the address to.

Ellen Harvelle is accompanied by a Ms. Sarah Blake, and Crowley is accompanied by-

Castiel’s hand clenches at his side, before he forces himself to relax. He smiles and hopes it doesn’t look strained, kisses the hands of Ellen and Sarah, and nods to Crowley.

“I’m Dean.” The boy with green eyes reaches out, and Castiel takes it, shaking it gently in his hand. It surprises him when Dean squeezes his firmly and when he looks up, he is smirking.

There is no word for what is happening to him.

They sit down, Crowley explains Castiel’s interests in investing, Ellen asks him a few questions about his career and lifestyle, Sarah about his accounts. Castiel likes the way Dean drinks his water, folds his napkin over his lap, and most importantly of all, he’d never noticed the freckles that dotted his skin before.

Dean was without makeup here, or stage light. The sun shone through bay windows and Dean’s green eyes were flecked with gold, his skin a shade tan. He pursed his lips around the glass when he drank the champagne they used to toast to Castiel’s new patronage.

~

Castiel appears at the back door one evening after a performance of Swan Lake.

He had sent his flowers ahead, but now held a single rose.

Meg spots him and tilts her head up. “Patrons get special access.” She winks, and he makes it through the crowds to get into the back stage.

It’s crowded with women and men, performers leaving costume, running around to get into costume. It’s smoky and dark, and he can’t see much past the tight squeeze of bodies.

Some look at him when he passes, stop talking their gossip, but resume soon after they size him up.

He enters the hall with the rooms finally. Sees the star door ajar.

“Jesus, these are huge.” Castiel freezes. That doesn’t sound like Dean.

“My mom always said any praise is good praise.”

“Still shit for your allergies Dean. I picked up your meds on the way home yesterday, have some here if you want it.”

“God yeah. Thanks, Benny. ”

“Blow first.”

The accent is deep southern, from what Castiel can tell, and he’s never heard one so up north before. He hears what must be Dean blowing his nose into a tissue. Castiel looks down at his flower.

He hears the noise of pills in a plastic bottle, quiet breaks and gulps of water. 

“You ready to get out of here?”

“Yeah, I think we just about finished with encores. God, I could use a foot rub.”

“You know I give the best ones in this whole damn county.”

“That’s why I mentioned it.” Dean sounds so vulnerable, so relaxed. It dawns on him that Castiel has never really spoken to Dean. 

Castiel hears a chair moving. He backtracks, into shadows.

A burly man about the same height as Castiel steps out of the room, wearing suspenders and a working shirt. He’s pulling on a thick black coat, and reaches his hand out. Dean follows, ballet slippers draped over the back of a black cotton t shirt. Benny takes a bag from his hand and swings it over his left shoulder, broad muscles of his back flexing. Dean is about the same height as him, possibly taller, and Castiel swallows when the man slips his other hand under Dean’s shirt and around his waist.

He leans over to whisper something into Dean’s ear, and Castiel strains to hear, but he can’t. He watches the bearded face smiling into Dean’s neck, nuzzling and laying a kiss on his hairline. Dean’s head falling onto his shoulder. Castiel’s face burns.

He drops his rose to the floor and walks as far in the opposite direction as he can. 


End file.
